A teaser of the first chapter of "The Heir"

"The Heir" is coming 7/14/21

Chapter One

FINN woke to the sound of creaking floorboards.  He knew he had been dreaming, but as his eyes opened the memory vanished, leaving him with nothing but a lingering sense that the dream had been pleasant.  

The mattress, really just rough cloth wrapped tightly around dried wheat stalks, crinkled softly as he sat up and swung his long legs over the side to rest on the scuffed and faded wood floor.  The bedframe groaned as he rose, stretching away the last of sleep from his body.  The floorboards outside his room creaked again, closer this time, and with a sigh he crossed to the door of his bedroom and opened it.  A stack of clean laundry sat outside the door, and he bent to pick them up.  

It was early, the sun barely visible through Finn’s small window, but Veronica was already awake and starting on chores.

Finn chose the shirt and pants at the top of the stack, and filed the remaining clothing away in the small rickety dresser beneath the window.  The bottom drawer had a handle missing, and Veronica, his apprentice, had braided yarn together and threaded it through the holes to form a makeshift handle.  He tugged the brown and green strands to open the drawer, and it squeaked slightly as it slid open.  He closed it with a soft thud, then shed his long night shirt and pulled on the clean clothes.  He opened the door again and stepped into the hallway, fastening his belt and tucking his white shirt into his trousers as he walked.

“Veronica?” he called, entering the kitchen.

His apprentice was short and thin, and despite the earliness of the hour, she was fully dressed, her brown hair braided down her back.  Even from the doorway Finn could smell her homemade raspberry soap.  She must have been up for hours if she’d had time to bathe, dress, and start on her chores.     

She turned from the pots she was scrubbing, faded shadows under her eyes like bruises.  She was nineteen, Finn’s junior by nearly six years, with a face that was at once old and young, striking and faded, as though someone had run a finger through a charcoal drawing, smearing it in places and washing out what was once beautiful.     

Her dark eyes were round and sad and pretty, and Finn’s stomach twinged with something… guilt, perhaps, every time he looked at them.

“What are you doing?” Finn asked.    

“I’m nearly finished,” she said, turning back to the tub of water on the counter.  Her long, thick braid swayed back and forth as she scrubbed the dishes.

Finn looked around the small kitchen, light from the rising sun blooming across the walls.  The table held Finn’s leather satchel, already packed with all the supplies he would need to make the housecalls on the list for today.  Herbs wrapped in cloth lay next to it, the names of their intended patients written in Veronica’s neat handwriting across folded pieces of parchment, all secured together with a strip of twine.  Finn had always thought this flair for aesthetics Veronica possessed was hardly useful for a physician’s apprentice, but she seemed to enjoy making things look pretty.  It also tended to charm patients whenever he brought their medicines, wrapped up like gifts of some kind.

“Thank you,” Finn said, indicating the supplies she had laid out for him on the table.

“Of course,” she answered, eyes still on the dishes.  “Do you want anything to eat before you go?”

Finn shook his head, picking up the bag and adjusting the strap to fit comfortably on his shoulder.  “No that’s alright, I’ll eat when I get back.”

Veronica nodded, perhaps only half listening.

Finn fiddled with a cluster of lavender on the table, pale purple flowers protruding from the white cloth binding the stems together.  He felt awkward, chewing on what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the silence.

Veronica seemed to sense his apprehension, because Finn heard her sigh softly, and when he looked up she turned toward him.  “You don’t need to worry about me,” she said softly, drying her hands on her apron and leaning her back against the wooden counter.

He nodded, but didn’t quite meet her eye.  “I just… you know there are herbs I can give you to help with—”

“I’ve tried them.”  Her voice had grown hard.  “They don’t work.  They never work.”

He finally looked at her.  Her eyes, beautiful as they were, held a haunted look.  She never slept for more than a few hours a night, chased from her bed by nightmares.  Finn remembered Veronica as a small, slight ten year-old, walking up the path to the farmhouse with Duvar, Finn’s former master, her face streaked with ash, her hair singed in places.  Duvar explained that her parents died in a fire, and Veronica was going to live with them from now on.  She had grown older in the nine years since then, but her face was somehow still the same as it had been that day.  Frozen.

Finn opened his mouth to speak, but a sharp knock on the front door startled them both.  Veronica’s eyes grew wide.

“Were you expecting someone?” she asked, voice low, eyes flicking to the door.  Her hands gripped the counter until her knuckles were white.

Finn shook his head, pulse thudding in his throat.  He held up a finger, indicating Veronica was to wait where she was, then he crossed the room to the door.  It creaked loudly as it swung open, and Finn barely had time to catch the woman who fell toward him.

“Veronica!” he shouted, gripping the woman under her arms and trying to hold her up.  He barely got the word out before Veronica materialized at his side, grabbing one of the woman’s arms and helping Finn support her into a chair at the table.

“Miss,” Finn was saying, tone clear and ringing.  “Miss, can you hear me?”

The woman’s head rolled back, and Finn saw her face for the first time.  She was older, her hair, which Finn had thought was brown, was actually white, but caked in so much dirt the true color had been concealed.

Her eyelids fluttered but didn’t open all the way.  Her lips were dry and peeling, and her breathing was shallow.  

“Water,” Finn ordered, and Veronica hurried to obey.  She brought a mug of water and raised it to the woman’s lips.  Finn wrapped one hand around the back of the woman’s head, supporting it so she could drink.  She took small gulps, then began to cough.

“Finn?”

Finn ignored Veronica, stepping around to the front of the chair and kneeling down to look into the woman’s face, her head slumped forward.  “Can you hear me?  Can you tell me your name?”

“Finn,” Veronica repeated, more urgently.  “She has children with her.”

Finn turned to look at the doorway, standing in which were two children, a girl and a boy, that looked like they might have been twins.  Behind them stood a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to them.

“What happened to her?” Finn asked them quickly.

“She collapsed as soon as we got here,” the woman said.  She was pale and looked terrified, casting glances from the old woman to Finn and then back again, wringing her thin hands.

Veronica ushered them inside, closing the door behind them and locking it before returning to Finn’s side.  “Is she injured?” she asked, pressing the back of her hand against the old woman’s forehead.  “No fever,” she added to Finn, and he nodded.

The younger woman shook her head.  “No, she wasn’t injured.  But we haven’t had food or water in days, and she was sickly when we left.”

“Boil some broth,” Finn instructed Veronica.

She hurried to obey, going to the stove to stoke the burning wood inside.

Finn, still kneeling in front of the old woman’s chair, looked back at the other three strangers.  “Who told you to come here?”  he asked, panic making his voice sound harsher than he intended.  He had never had this many travelers come at one time, and never in the daylight.  If they were caught…  If someone knew about what he was doing...

“No one,” the young woman said softly.  Her eyes were wide and her clasped hands quivered.  “No one… we only heard rumors of the doctor helping our kind, and had to see if they were true.”

Veronica’s eyes met Finn’s, and he glanced away quickly.  He knew what she wanted him to say, but he wouldn’t.  “They are true,” Finn said quietly, turning back to the old woman, who was beginning to stir.  He brought the water to her lips again, and she began to take deeper sips.

A relieved sigh escaped the younger woman, and she gripped the shoulders of her two children.

“But it isn’t what you think,” Finn continued.  Guilt gnawed at him.  Gods, how he wished it was exactly what they thought.  “It’s temporary safety, a place to hide.  It isn’t permanent—”

“That’s alright,” the woman said breathlessly.  “Really.  Thank you sir, thank you.”

Finn glanced at Veronica again.  She held his gaze, expression stony, before looking away again.

Finn got to his feet.  “Veronica, can you finish here?”  He looked at the younger woman.  “I need to speak with you.”

She nodded, though looked hesitant.  She patted the two children on the head reassuringly.  “Wait right here, I’ll be back.”

Finn stepped outside, the woman following.  The property was small, but it was peaceful, the gravel road leading to the village stretching out for nearly half a mile, green grass protruding from earth damp with morning dew.  The barn sat several yards behind the house, and Finn’s herb garden scented the air with lavender and rosemary.

Finn paced for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.  Finally he paused and turned to the woman, who was following so close behind him he nearly collided with her.  She stepped back quickly.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he said, voice low.  “Unannounced, and in broad daylight.  If someone saw you—”

The woman swallowed, but nodded.  “I know.  I’m sorry.  But we didn’t have anywhere else to go.”  Her voice began to quiver.  “The soldiers in our village… they were rounding up all the Wielders they could find and forcing them to perform.  One man refused, and they whipped him in the square.  They said he was too defiant, that we all had to learn to respect the crowns.”

Finn’s stomach rolled, not because her story was unexpected, but because he had heard it before.  Countless times.

“It wasn’t safe for my children anymore,” she continued, voice thick.  She ran her palms over her face, over her tears.  “I just… I don’t understand.  We never say or do anything against them, but they treat us like animals!”

Finn gripped her shoulders.  “I know.  I’m sorry.”  His own throat felt a bit thick.

“Just tell me it’s true,” she whispered, hands still over her face.  “Tell me there really is a place to hide, away from them.”

Finn swallowed, hard.  “Yes.  But as I said, it’s temporary.  There is a place, a hidden place, where there are others like you.”

The woman lowered her hands, red eyes imploring.  “How many others?”

“Not many,” Finn admitted.  “Mostly elderly and children, those who can’t fight back.”

The woman continued to watch Finn.  Finally she asked, “What did they do to you?”  She cocked her head, eyes turning sympathetic.  “Did they chase you away because of your Magic, too?”

Finn shook his head, a little smile tugging at his lips.  “No.  I don’t have any Magic.”

The woman stared at him.  “You… you don’t?”

Finn shook his head, lowering his hands and extending his palms forward.  “None.”

The woman hesitated, then took one of his hands, tracing a finger down his palm.  “No Magic,” she whispered, as though she couldn’t believe it.  She peered up at Finn.  “But… then why are you helping us?”

Finn’s mouth turned up in a sad smile.  “I have to be a Wielder to care what happens to Wielders?”

The woman just continued to stare at him, shaking her head.  “You do all this… for people who don’t share your bloodline?”

Finn blinked, a little taken aback.  “What does blood matter?”  When the woman didn’t answer, he continued, “You can wait in the barn.  Veronica will help your friend, and we’ll leave after dark.”

Back inside the house, Veronica and the two children were huddled around the old woman, who Finn was relieved to see was sitting upright and talking to them in between sips of steaming broth.  The smile that Veronica held died when her eyes met Finn’s, and his relief faltered.  She straightened, handing the bowl of broth to the little boy.

“Here,” she told him, “You make sure she drinks it all.”  Her voice was low and calm, friendly; a tone she reserved for children and no one else.  She looked at Finn and nodded toward the hallway.

He followed her, gesturing for the young woman to sit at the table with the others, and stepped into the dark hall.  Veronica opened the door to her small bedroom, and Finn stepped inside after her.  She shut it behind him, folding her arms and looking up at Finn.  The top of her head barely reached the height of his shoulders, something he found amusing on occasion.  But he wasn’t amused now.

He held up his hands when Veronica opened her mouth to speak.  “I’m not turning them away,” he said, voice flat and final.

Veronica sighed.  “I wasn’t going to tell you to turn them away.”  She chewed on her thumbnail, eyes flitting around the room, looking anywhere but at Finn.  “I just… Finn, this is getting dangerous.”

It was Finn’s turn to sigh.  “I know that, Veronica.  I’m being careful.”

“Are you?” Veronica shot back, eyes finally finding his.  “Those people heard about you from someone.  What happens when you get caught?”

“If I get caught,” Finn corrected.  “Veronica, you can’t honestly expect me not to help those people because it puts me at risk.”  After months, they were still having the same conversation, the same argument.  It was getting tiring.

Veronica groaned, pressing her thumb to the center of her forehead as though to keep her frustration from protruding.  “Finn…”  She sighed, lowering her hands to her sides.  “I would never tell you not to help people.  You know that isn’t what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I just…”  She stepped forward, poking a finger into his chest.  “I want you to be careful.  I have this feeling… like something terrible is about to happen.”  She tapped the space above his heart.  “I fear this good heart of yours is going to be the death of you.”  She stepped back, eyes on the floor.

A little smile formed on his mouth despite the sinking in his stomach.  He tapped Veronica’s chin with his fist.  “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”

She looked up at him again, but the smile he expected to see wasn’t there.  Her eyes took on an almost vacant, faraway expression.  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Finn.”

And then she left the room without another word.